


Introductions

by orphan_account



Series: Domesticity with the ADA [1]
Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: F/M, First Meetings, Other, not really fluff but not really smut either, oh well
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-20
Updated: 2014-05-20
Packaged: 2018-01-25 20:14:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1661099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You meet ADA Rafael Barba at an art gallery, and you discuss how modern art is lame. You meet him a second time at a bar, and you get his number.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Introductions

You first met ADA Rafael Barba at an art gallery on 17th street. You had seen his face on your television screen before, and you recognized him almost instantly. Not only his face, but the way he stood. His posture. Back straight, head up. It was a very confident stance. He was sipping on a glass of wine while studying another painting by a person you didn’t care enough about to actually know the name of. The ADA was frowning at the painting, as if he was trying to understand the concept behind it. It was modern art, so really, there wasn’t a concept, but you weren’t about to tell that to anyone here. 

You had come to the gallery because they were showcasing a piece of art that you had worked on, and your boss wanted to make sure that it was getting the proper attention that it needed. You glanced around the square room for a moment, looking for the man in question, and noticed that he had acquired a blonde who was hanging off his every word. You shook your head. He was a bit of a sleaze ball, really, but he had a certain charm to him.

You turn your attention back to the ADA, and startle a bit when you notice that he is looking back at you. His cheeks turn a little pink, like he was a teenager caught cheating on his test, and he quickly looked away. He glanced back over, though, a few seconds later. You smile warmly at him, and he returns it, and you decide that that is good enough an invitation to walk over to him.

“Hi,” you say politely as you stand beside him. 

“Hello,” he says back, nodding a little in your direction. The two of you introduce yourselves, and then go back to studying the painting silently. You notice him glancing at you in your peripheral. You smile a little and turn towards him.

“What do you think of it?” you ask, gesturing towards the painting.

After a moment of consideration, Rafael sighs. “I don’t mean to sound uncultured, but why is this considered art? I mean, my 3-year old niece could create something better this. It’s just lines!” he says, gesturing at the painting. You look at it. He’s right, of course. Straight, black lines against the white background. Hardly groundbreaking.

You shrug. “I really have no idea. I mean, I work in an art museum, I appreciate art in all of its forms, but between you and me, I hate modern art. I cannot begin to fathom why anyone would want to buy this for $7,000,” you tell him.

He looks at you after you say this, and smiles. You look back at him and notice his eyes are green. 

***

The second time you run into the ADA is in a bar. You knew that he had been working on a tough case; it was all over the news stations. You thought about not disturbing him, in case he needed some time to himself, but your loneliness got the better of you, and you found yourself making your way across the room towards him.

“Is this seat taken?” you ask. He startles a bit, turns towards you, and smiles when he recognizes you.

“No, not at all, have a seat, please,” he says, gesturing towards the stool. You sit down, and smooth out your dress against your thighs. You notice him watching the movement out of the corner of your eyes. 

“What are you drinking?” he asks, noticing that you don’t have a glass in your hand. 

“Um, I’ll have whatever you’re having,” you tell him. He smiles and orders two most glasses of whiskey from the bartender, who puts them in front of him quickly. He passes a glass to you, and you clink it against his before taking a sip. It burns your throat as it goes down.

The two of you are silent for a few moments. He glances over at you. “That’s a really pretty dress,” he says simply, and you feel the heat rising up in your cheeks.

“Thank you,” you reply shyly. He smiles and takes a sip of his whiskey. “Tough case?”

He laughs dryly and shakes his head. “That’s an understatement,” he says. “But I don’t really want to talk about it right now. Actually, I can’t really talk about it, so a change of subject would be nice. Tell me what you do, I don’t think that was ever mentioned when we were talking earlier.”

You take a sip of your whiskey, grimacing again as you swallow. “I’m an art conservationist,” you tell him. He gives you a look, and you laugh a little. “I work at an art museum, and I help preserve and restore pieces of valuable art. Art that has been damaged in some way, or is old and starting to fade a bit.”

He nods. “That sounds interesting,” he says.

“It’s very tedious, and requires an insane amount of attention to detail,” you explain. 

The two of you talk for another hour. The subjects range from music to movies to art to the Yankees. You find yourself turned towards him, leaning against the bar top with your hand cradling your head. There is a lull in the conversation, and Rafael’s phone buzzes. He checks it and groans.

“I’m really sorry, but I have to go,” he waves down the bartender and ignores your protests about paying the tab. He steps off the stool, and turns to walk away but pauses and looks back at you.

“Do you, maybe, want to go out to dinner sometime? Preferably sometime soon?” he asked, and you can hear the hint of nervousness creeping back into his voice.

You smile and nod. You write your number down on a napkin and give it to him. “I’m free this weekend, call me sometime,” you tell him. He smiles and nods. You say your goodbyes, and he leaves the bar, slinging his suit jacket back on as he exits. After he leaves, your phone buzzes. You open it to see a text message, telling you that he’ll pick you up Saturday night. You smile and save his number in your phone.

**Author's Note:**

> You all might recognize the beginning from that other fic I wrote, which no longer exists. I tried rewriting that one to make it less OOC, decided it wasn't working at all, and scrapped it and decided it'd be better to start from scratch. So here you go. As always, constructive criticism is always welcome, and if you have a prompt for me, leave it in the comments


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